


Malfunction

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, Pining, So very AU, Will be explicit later, alienlock, slow burn alien love, will add the smut tags when i write the smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:41:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sh'lock tampers with his transporter, hoping it'll end him up on a planet that isn't infinitelly boring. Instead, it ends him up on a cold, dreary prison.</p><p>Or, Sh'lock fiddles with his transporter and it lands him in John's bedsit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Malfunction

The blinking lights of Sh'lock's vast spaceship all ran together in his sight. He was dreadfully overwhelmed with boredom. This ship, which he was put on against his will, was on a course he couldn't change, no matter much he tinkered with (and physically harmed) the console. He was en route to the most boring planet in the whole boring universe, to do something boring with boring colonization. 

It was all, of course, a punishment from his elder genetic relative. Mycr'ft, the relative, was overly powerful and had the ability to do whatever he wanted with Sh'lock. Sh'lock was rather petulant about this.

Sh'lock stood with a huff from the console and began walking toward the centre of his (Mycr'ft's) ship. There was at least a teleporter, which meant he could manage his way around the ship without spending all of his time walking (boring) from place to place. He had done experiments on his home teleporter before, and knew a bit about how they worked, so he decided to briefly alleviate his boredom by meddling with his surprisingly non-restricted transporter.

The maintenance hatch was easy to open, with barely a lock in place, and he soon shoved one of four hands inside to fiddle with the machinery. His phalanges wrapped around a blue wire, tugging it out of place and shoving it somewhere else. It wasn't all totally random work, he knew what simple things to do to make sure he wasn't going to arrive in separate pieces. He hoped that with his tampering he could transport himself to a separate planet, somewhere where Mycr'ft wouldn't be able to get to him. He smirked a bit as he worked, his cheek's bioluminesence glowing slightly in excitement. 

He scampered up onto the transporter pad, and mashed buttons that he thought would send him to the nearest planet in the ship's range. He felt the familiar sensation of being deconstructed, something he'd stopped being afraid of when he grew up a bit. 

Immediately, he noticed that the transporter was working at almost half speed, him staying in a state of limbo as he traveled. He was going to end up far, far away from his ship. 

\--  
Sh'lock's body reconfigured itself after a few moments, and his senses returned to him. The first thing he felt was the chill in the air, then the slipperiness under his feet and the clinical smell of the air. He appeared to be in a small cubicle, about the size of a person long, and a person's width. There was a cloth separation field between the cubicle and what was, presumably, the outside areas of this planet. Sh'lock saw knobs and immediately crouched to investigate. He curiously twisted one, and a rush of shockingly cold water poured out of a small spout. He sputtered and quickly twisted it back to its original position. Water must be a plentiful resource on this planet. He pushed away the cloth separation field and found that it wasn't the outside. Instead, he found a tiled room with another water spout and another smaller cubicle. This cubicle was circular, and elevated off the ground slightly. He assumed water would shoot out of it when the small lever at the top left was pushed, but quick investigation revealed it sucked water in. A disposal chute, then. There was a door, roughly the size of Sh'lock (good. He was the same size as the species, which was always a good sign) and he twisted the knob to open it.

What he saw was a small, cold, dread little bedsit, which without the laptop and food, would look completely uninhabited. 

To Sh'lock, this small, cold, dreary little bedsit rather resembled a prison cell, and he trilled unhappily when he realized he'd inadvertently imprisoned himself. Were there guards? Would they kill him? Did they even know there were other life forms? Possibly, this was an abandoned prison building, and nobody would ever find him (or let him out). Still possible, the entire planet was abandoned, and he was alone. He could do anything he wanted alone on a planet, but he found the idea didn't have as much appeal as he'd expected.

Sh'lock walked out onto the floor (not tiled) and made a high-pitched, excited squeaking noise when he found the floor was made of fur. He spent more than a few minutes rubbing his feet against the floor, and eventually gave in to laying down on it and running his hands over it. This fur floor was a brilliant idea, he thought. 

Sh'lock hadn't rested in quite a long time, and the prison cell was nice and cold, the floor extremely comfortable, so he couldn't help it when he dozed off into a sleep cycle. His skin dulled quite a bit to grey while he slept, no emotional output to change his camouflage colors, so he could very nearly blend into the carpet as he slept.

Sh'lock had no idea how long he slept before he was startled awake by prodding at his face. Oh, no, the guards, he was really going to get it this time. He cracked open an eye, not daring to move his body, and didn't see a large, threatening guard. He saw a smallish being with only two arms and light yellow/grey hair. It was marvelous. The being said something in a garbled sounding tongue, so Sh'lock looked at him, confused. The being sighed.

Sh'lock attempted communication, with the being seeming to be non-threatening. A few trills and clicks later, they had gotten nowhere. Sh'lock huffed a bit. He wanted to know what this creature was and why its hair and eyes were these extraordinary colors. 

Perhaps if he could learn some of the being's rudimentary language? They could at least understand their situation if he could. Sh'lock stood, only now truly realizing how much taller he was than the other being. He was a bit proud, he'd always been the short one. 

The being was attempting to gesture language. This was unacceptable, and Sh'lock quickly grasped its hands to stop it. He was immediately delighted to know that he could use his telepathic abilities to communicate. 

He quickly showed the being how he'd gotten there, and then learned that he wasn't in a prison and that its name was John. An exotic, hard to pronounce name. He told John his name, and then learned a bit of 'English' while he was in John's head. 

After a moment of trying to ruffle through John's memories, Sh'lock was pushed away. Apparently, it had been Not Good. 

"Hello," John said.

"H'gleh," Sh'lock said, immediately horrified with his botched pronunciation. 

John laughed a bit, a low, musical sound. 

"Hulla," Sh'lock tried again. "Jan," He added, attempting John's name.

"Hulla, Sherlock," John said back. Sh'lock's name sounded so beautiful in John's accent, he wanted to hear it more.

"Hulla, Jan, Jan," He blurted, hoping John would repeat him with Sh'lock's name.

He did not.

**Author's Note:**

> <3


End file.
